


Love, Undercover

by camshaft22, thedarlingone (Curuchamion)



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Heist, Infiltration, M/M, Mutual Pining, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camshaft22/pseuds/camshaft22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/pseuds/thedarlingone
Summary: Wedge and Wes have to go undercover as a couple at a black-tie event while pining after each other.
Relationships: Wedge Antilles & Tycho Celchu, Wedge Antilles/Wes Janson, Wes Janson & Derek "Hobbie" Klivian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Love, Undercover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elsajeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni/gifts).



> Elsajeni requested "more Wraith Squadron/Starfighters of Adumar-style shenanigans" and "maybe some silly undercover-as-a-couple type stuff" for this pairing. Hope this satisfies!

Wes fidgeted with his spavat. "How do I look, Hobbs? Ready for the big night?"

"Definitely. I'm so glad to see you in something stylish for once," Hobbie teased. "So... how is it going with your crush?" Wes could see the evil look in his eyes. 

Wes blushed crossly. "Stop it. It's not... okay, fine, it is like that, but I'm not... I'm his gunner, okay? I know we're not on Hoth anymore but I still... I don't want to kriff things up."

"Who said you would? He might be into it. Maybe you need to make a move. You know Wedge is clueless about anything that isn't flying, ships, or a mission." Hobbie smirked at him. "You can teach him something new." 

Wes swallowed a squeak. "Don't give me _ideas_ , Hobbs," he grumbled. "Not now." Wedge... why had he ever agreed to go undercover with Wedge. As a _couple_. They'd have to touch and... and do things. Maybe even kiss. Wes could feel his face flaming at the thought.

Hobbie looked entirely too smug. "Be sure to hold his hand. Kiss him frequently. You're madly in love, after all. Your target respects married beings. You'll be less suspicious this way." 

"Yeah, well, the galaxy is full of weirdos," Wes grumbled. "Won't someone notice me blushing my face off?"

"Oh, probably. Which is why you need to get this under control now. He's just Wedge. Just because your crush can be seen from space doesn't mean he realizes it. Just relax." 

"Just relax," Wes mocked. "Kiss him frequently. Make up your mind, will you? I know it's hard with only one brain cell, but I believe in you."

Hobbie cackled. "Oh, are you a romantic? Why can't you think of granny Janson and kiss Wedge? That should kill any desire you can possibly have." 

Wes physically jerked back. "Ew. Yeah, no, I gotta give it to you, Hobbs, you sure can kill a mood."

"Aren't you glad we're friends? I've fixed your problems," Hobbie told him. "So kiss him, feel him up a bit. Enjoy the experience." 

" _Hobbs!_ " Wes whined.

"Do you want me to tell him for you? Get it out of the way so you can get over it?" Hobbie asked. 

" _No!_ " Wes snapped. "Kriff, Hobbs, do you _want_ to ruin this whole op? I can deal."

"Of course not," Hobbie told him. "I just think it's silly to carry on like this. He might like you back. Wouldn't it be even more effective if he did?" 

"Or he might _not_. Or it might not work out in many other ways. Just stop."

"Alright," Hobbie told him. "At least I'm fond of you," he said with a wink. "I'll help you move on once we're finished." 

"At least you're always willing to try to set me up with people," Wes joked. "Better than nothing."

"Indeed. However, you should just tell him," Hobbie told him. "He'll be nice and who knows, maybe he's been as in love with you as you've been in him." 

"Maybe if tonight goes well, I'll let him let me down gently," Wes said. "Anyway. How do I look?"

Hobbie looked at him carefully. Wes checked himself in the mirror as well. He was dressed in mostly gray trousers with thin black stripes, a nice white shirt and a gray vest. He looked like his cover, a weapons maker's spouse, should. 

"You look good," Hobbie said. "Very much like a coreworlder. How's your accent?" 

"I'm really not sure about the accent thing," Wes admitted in a fairly good if nonspecific Core accent. "It tends to drift on me."

"Sprinkle in references to growing up on your grandmother's home in the Outer Rim. That would explain the drift. Plus Wedge is Corellian. Actually, better idea, let it drift towards Corellian if possible. Ditch the grandmother and just have your accent be driven by Wedge's culture." 

"I do adore my darling husband so," Wes agreed, feeling a little more comfortable with the new accent.

"Excellent. Do your best to gain entry to our target's private rooms and drop the droid while you're inside. If everything goes well, it can grab the intel we need," Hobbie said, handing Wes the palm-sized droid so he could see it. "But if you aren't able to, do your best to grab something." 

Wes examined the little spy droid. "Tycho sneaks this in to me after we're scanned, right? Lot of responsibility for such a little gadget."

"He's up to the task," Hobbie told him, brushing a finger against the small droid's case and took it back. "He'll get the data back to us and we'll go. I wish I could at least be on the comms but you’ll do alright." 

"Thanks to our Intel contact. She's pretty badass," Wes teased gently.

"She really is. I'm this close to asking to be reassigned so I can work with her," Hobbie teased. 

"Well, she has worked with pilots before, so she can't be too picky," Wes joked.

"Ouch," Hobbie said. "Anyway, you should be on your way. Be careful. Watch for Wedge's sense of injustice to become too strong." 

Wes snorted. "Trust him to start a fight in the three minutes I have to have my back turned fetching the droid."

"Seriously, " Hobbie told him while he rolled his eyes. "But do be careful." 

"I will," Wes said. "Can't leave you to break in another wingmate all by your lonesome. That's just unfair."

"I have gotten you exactly how I like you. It would be very troublesome to have to do it again," Hobbie agreed. 

Wes stood up and checked the mirror one more time. He did look pretty damn good. "Time to party."

***

Wedge held his jacket and scowled at Tycho. "Why couldn't you be the arms dealer?" He didn't want to do this. Wasn't his face really recognizable? Plus… Wes. He liked Wes. That was the problem. He liked him so much. It wasn't fair for Wes to have to deal with Wedge's crush on this mission. 

"Believe me, I'd rather be the arms dealer than the plumber," Tycho said blithely. "I didn't get a choice either. We take the roles Rena says. But at least you have that fake facial hair to disguise your famous face."

Wedge pulled at the styled full beard on his face. His real beard was pathetic compared to this. But he didn't enjoy it. "It's weird. I look like my dad. Or Booster." 

"At least you know you'll age gracefully?" Tycho said.

"There is that," Wedge admitted. "Oh Force. Tycho… how am I going to deal with this? It's Wes."

Tycho patted his shoulder. "Just breathe. Be yourself. You work fine with him most of the time."

"Of course. There's professional guidelines. He's my gunner. My friend but… like. It's different." 

"He's your subordinate," Tycho said unerringly.

Wedge frowned. “Is that your way of saying don’t?” he asked. 

"Not at all," Tycho said. "I'm saying I understand your hesitation. The two of you have a special bond and it's not entirely an equal one. I'm saying consider whether you could set that aside when you were off duty, if you want him to be something else to you."

“I…” he hesitated. “I want to. But I’m not sure how to switch off,” Wedge told him. 

"How about you let tonight be practice?" Tycho suggested. "Pretend. You'll have to kiss and hug him to keep up your cover. Let yourself pretend it's real. See if you can switch off. Then you can decide whether to pursue something real with him."

“What if he doesn’t want it? After all that?” Wedge asked. 

"Then you continue what you have. He's not the kind of guy to make things weird just because he turned you down."

“That’s true. He’s such a good person. I won’t be an asshole either. So, ok. I have a plan,” Wedge said with a nod. 

"You do. Go forth and be badass. Try to have fun," Tycho said.

Wedge pulled his jacket on and fastened it. “I’ll try. Good luck tonight.” 

***

The manor loomed as they pulled into the parking area. Wedge glanced over at Wes, feeling nervous. He took a steadying breath. "You look nice," he complimented him. Wedge leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Smell nice too." 

Wes giggled awkwardly. "I try," he said. "You ready to impress the galaxy's rich and famous?"

Wedge smiled. "As ready as I can be."

Wes ran his hand through his curly hair, fluffing it nicely. "You've got your fancy clothes, you've got your handsome trophy spouse, what else do you need?"

"An in to impressing our host," Wedge said. "But you definitely help."

"I am pretty impressive," Wes agreed, flexing dramatically. "Showtime?"

Wedge smiled and leaned in, kissing him again gently on the cheek. "For luck," he told him. 

Wes blushed and kissed his cheek in return. "We make our own luck, but a little extra never hurt." He slid out of the speeder, walked around to Wedge's side, and offered his arm.

Wedge took his arm and threaded them together, protectively. He meant what he said about Wes's scent, a blend of starfighter fuel and the minty soap he used. It was a nice smell. Wedge would love to smell it more, touch him more. But he had to be cool. Wes didn't want him like that. 

They joined the crowd that was entering and being scanned by security. "If you'll surrender your weapons, Sirs," the guard said.

"Of course," Wedge said warmly. "I'd better get them back. They're very precious to my love." He started pulling his hidden weapons from sleeves, boots, and other sheaths all over his body. All high tech and cutting edge. Wedge wasn't sure where Rena had gotten these but he was afraid to ask. 

Wes removed a few weapons as well, a nice antique bone-handled vibroblade from his forearm sheath and a small silver-and-ivory holdout blaster. "I'm sure they'll take good care of our gear, my darling," he said.

Wedge nodded and took his hand. "Let's make our way inside." 

It was a big, bustling party indoors, people in constant motion. The foyer opened into a wide dining hall bracketed by two fancy staircases, with a buffet table arrayed with finger food and drinks. The guests circulated all around, chattering and making small talk.

They couldn't just head straight for their target, of course. They had to mingle. Network. Draw attention, subtly, in a good way, not too much.

Wes steered them toward the table and acquired some snacks and drinks for both of them, deftly balancing a cup for him and a little plate for both of them while Wedge, still on his arm, held his own glass. 

To one of the other guests, an older woman in a uniform just severe enough to indicate Imperial leanings but just flamboyant enough not to be fully Imperial in cut or design, Wes said, "Excuse me, ma'am, I hope you don't mind if I introduce myself. I'm Garth Rann and this is my husband, Rex Nievell, of NieWorks." Rena and Intel had provided the cover stories. NieWorks was a real weapons manufacturer, small but not badly regarded.

"A pleasure. My name is Yulia Humnel. NieWorks you say?" she asked. 

"Yes. Cutting edge of personal and, of course, military weaponry," Wedge said, stepping in. "The pleasure is ours." 

"When I saw that you were on the list, I did a bit of digging. Your company designed the LFR0723. I find that the sight is not aligned correctly on several of the models."

Wedge looked embarrassed. "That was a design flaw. We've issued replacements. Do you want to get with my office in the next few days in order to discuss it?" he asked, offering her a contact cit. 

The woman looked pleased. "Perhaps. Thank you, Mr. Nievell."

"Rex, please," Wedge told her. 

“Rex, then. We’ll speak again soon,” Yulia said, and they parted from her, moving along down the buffet table.

The two introduced themselves to the other guests, mingling as they watched for their opportunity. Finally, Wedge pulled Wes onto the dance floor, holding him close as he took the lead. "Do you think Tycho is in yet?" he asked quietly. 

Wes followed Wedge's movements effortlessly as they danced. "Maybe," he murmured back. "I'll check after this dance."

The dance reminded Wedge of Hoth, of Princess Leia and Tycho leading their squadron in an Alderaanian waltz, Wes moving easily in his arms just this way. Like when they flew together as pilot and gunner in their snowspeeder, Wes danced as if he foresaw Wedge's thoughts, not to outpace his movements, but to follow his lead in almost perfect synchronicity.

When the music ended, Wes was grinning broadly. "That was fun," he said.

Wedge gazed into those dark brown eyes for a moment, getting lost in their subtle depths. Wes was so beautiful like this, happy and mischievous, and willing to be led by Wedge. "Yeah, it was," he said gently. If he wasn't already in love with him, this would be the moment. Wedge kissed him, unable to help himself. 

Wes melted into the kiss for a long moment, his lips yielding to Wedge. It was amazing, magical. Was it real? Who knew? Wedge tried not to worry about that. He might as well enjoy the moment. "You better get started," he whispered against Wes's mouth, breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," Wes murmured reluctantly. He pressed his forehead against Wedge's for a moment, soft fondness in his eyes. Had it been... Wedge didn't dare hope. He couldn't. Not now. Later.

Wes stumbled sideways a step and almost fell, catching himself with a hand on Wedge's shoulder. "I should, um," he slurred, Coreworld accent back in place. "I should maybe go... thingy." He turned and strode off with the very carefully confident precision of a man trying to prove to himself that he's not actually as drunk as all that.

Wedge watched him go, trying to appreciate Wes's acting skill -- the man had had maybe half a glass of wine, he was as sober as anyone else here -- and not just, well, stare at his broadly muscled back and extremely attractive ass. Damn, those pants were well tailored, though.

"You're very smitten with your partner, Mr Nievell," Yulia observed, appearing next to Wedge and guiding him off the dance floor with a hand on his elbow. "Newlyweds?"

"Yes," Wedge told her warmly as another dance began. "We're very much in love." That was true on one side at least.

***

Wes walked carefully toward the fresher, focusing on keeping up his act of being drunk. His heart was thudding, his face overheating. Wedge had kissed him. Only for the act, sure, but... Wedge had _kissed_ him and hadn't been disgusted by it, or at least hadn't shown distaste. That memory was going to be distracting him for a while.

Focus, Janson. He needed to focus. He needed to find Tycho and get the little droid on which this whole op depended. 

Wes slipped for real on a wet patch on the fresher floor, recovered, and gazed into the mirror, panting. His eyes were blown black with arousal, and he felt like he could practically see his pulse thumping, shaking his body. He bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, careless of his nice clothes. The giddy euphoria that swallowed him wasn't going to be worth it if they flubbed the mission.

Turning, he headed down the row of open fresher stalls. There! Tycho's workmanlike boot soles, kneeling. He made an uncoordinated lurch for that stall, keeping in character; who knew what surveillance was present here. 

Tycho drew back as the door opened. "Sorry, Sir, this one is being repaired," he said in the thick accent of this world. "Are you doing alright?" He gave Wes a smug look. Damn the man, was it that obvious how blown away Wes felt by one simple kiss? 

"Oh, sorry," Wes babbled, faking another near-tumble and landing with his hand on Tycho's shoulder, propping himself up. "Sorry, sorry. I, uh -- sorry. I needed to uh. I'm not drunk."

Deftly, Tycho slipped the little droid into a pocket inside Wes's vest. "Of course, Sir," he said blandly. "Would you like some help anyway?" 

"Definitely not _that_ drunk," Wes said, drawing himself up with some dignity. "I got this." He made his way out of the stall and into another, actually empty one.

Once he'd finished his business and washed his hands, he took another look in the mirror. He'd managed to calm down a little, anyway. Hopefully Wedge could find a way into the rooms where they needed to drop the spy droid.

***

Wedge glanced over and caught Wes's attention. He excused himself from the conversation he was having and headed towards him with a glass. "Feel better?" 

"Much," Wes said, accepting the glass of water with a lopsided dimpled smile. "I could use some fresh air though."

Wedge put his hand on the small of Wes's back and guided him through a hallway with doors leading to other rooms, out towards a large balcony. "Here, we can look at the stars for a bit." 

Wes sank into one of the wide bench chairs on the balcony and leaned back, grinning up at the sky as he breathed deeply. "Thank you, Rex."

Wedge sat next to him and hugged him close. "Yulia seems nice. She's not an associate of our host like I thought." 

"Oh?" Wes asked with idle curiosity. "Just trying to get in good with him like we are?"

"It looks that way. But we might have made a new contact with her group," he told him. "You look so good tonight. But you always look good." 

"Aww," Wes said, blushing again. "Thank you. You don't look too shabby yourself, my darling husband."

"Ever since I first saw you… you've meant so much to me. I'm lucky you tolerate me," Wedge told him, taking the opportunity to be honest. 

Wes laughed, but something in his dark eyes was guarded. "More than tolerate," he said warmly, and tilted his chin toward Wedge, offering another kiss.

Wedge kissed him again. He felt like a creep, stealing these kisses but he desperately wanted it to be real. "I used to be so jealous of Derek. He got your attention." 

Wes snorted. "He's _Derek_. We go together. But not like you and me. We're... it's something special." He met Wedge's gaze deliberately. "I wouldn't kiss Derek like this."

"I know. I know that now," Wedge assured him. "I just. I need you to know. I'm so lucky to have you in my life." 

"Me too," Wes agreed. "I... we should talk more. About this. Later."

"Of course. You know me. Just a fool for you," Wedge covered, the red on his cheeks mostly hidden by his fake beard. "I want to devour you, my darling. Do you think our host would be terribly upset if we were to…" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Take a small personal break?" Wes asked, flushing hotly. "Maybe somewhere indoors. I don't want to freeze anything important off."

"Of course," Wedge agreed. "There were some rooms…" he said, standing up and offering his hand to Wes. 

"If they're not going to be used..." Wes agreed, rising as well. "We'll be very polite, of course. Very circumspect." He let Wedge lead him into the hallway. 

They knew which room they wanted, of course. Thank the Force for their Intel briefing. If they'd had to look for the right room, they would have been here all night. For realism, Wedge opened a couple of other doors first and let Wes make specious objections to the rooms thus revealed, before heading to the correct one.

Wedge tried their target room and the door easily opened. He shot Wes a look - was this a trap, or was their host simply relying on social convention to protect his private quarters, rather than risk arousing curiosity with a locked door? - then allowed him to look. "Will this one suit us, Starshine?" 

Wes gave the room a critical look, lips pursed. "I suppose it'll do."

Wedge grinned, unrepentant, and grabbed his hand, closing the door behind them. "How do you want to do this?" he whispered against his ear, acting like he was sucking on Wes's neck while he pushed him back toward a wall, moving them further into the room.

Wes nibbled at his ear. "The droid's in my waistcoat pocket," he whispered. "Start undressing me and palm it."

Wedge did as he was told, speaking up in case they were being watched even here. "You don't know what you do to me, my love. You drive a man to madness." Wedge swiftly opened Wes's vest, palming the droid.

Wes arched and moaned realistically. "If it's anything like what you do to me, I think I have an idea," he groaned while Wedge activated the tiny droid and dropped it quietly, letting it go to work. Then he seemed to hear something; he glanced toward the door for a swift instant, then grabbed Wedge's head and kissed him so forcefully their teeth clacked together.

They kissed roughly while Wedge tried to figure out what was going on. He tapped Wes's side, showing that he trusted him. 

"I might have known," said a crisp female voice with a Coreworld accent. Wedge jerked back from the kiss and stared. Yulia stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.

"Yulia," Wes said, clutching his waistcoat back together as if he'd been caught fully undressed. "What a pleasant surprise?"

"You two need to get out of here," Yulia told them. "Our host is getting anxious and you both should leave immediately. Follow me."

Wes and Wedge shared a look, a shrug, and followed Yulia back out into the hallway. 

"This way," Yulia said as she led them into another door that opened to a staircase. "Take the stairs and leave out the back door. They think you're suspicious and you can't get caught." 

"Well, we think they're pretty suspicious too," Wes said cheerfully. "Thanks, Yulia."

"You can owe me one," she said, handing them their weapons. She took a quick step forward into Wes's space, tucked something into his tunic pocket, and patted his chest as if to secure it there. "Now hurry. Once you leave the grounds, get off world." 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Wes said, holstering his antique-styled weaponry.

"Let's go," Wedge told him, putting his weapons away. He grabbed Wes's hand and they hurried down the staircase, out the back door, and towards the road across the darkened lawn. "We'll walk. The spaceport isn't far from here." 

"And then," Wes agreed, "there's no trace of where we've gone, because our speeder's still here. Unless someone gets ridiculously overdramatic and breaks out the scenting hounds."

Wedge laughed quietly. "Don't give them any ideas," he chided. They jumped a fence and walked a few feet over to the side of the road. Wedge undid his jacket and vest, instantly making his outfit more casual. 

Wes kept his vest on, still unfastened, but rolled up his sleeves and undid his collar, disarraying his spavat. He looked... really kriffing good that way, and also very debauched. Even in the darkness, it was hard for Wedge to keep his eyes off those muscular arms and that tempting glimpse of Wes's deep chest.

He considered his next move. Dare he tell Wes that he meant everything he'd said? This could destroy their partnership. Wes was his gunner. That relationship meant so much to him. But... Wedge thinned his lips and took a fortifying breath. "Wes… about those things I was saying." 

"I did say we should talk later, didn't I," Wes agreed. His voice sounded odd, a little taut and nervous. "Fine. I meant every word. I -- I love you. Or at least have a crush on you. Ever since we met. If that's not okay, tell me now and I'll never mention it again." The words came out in a rush.

Wedge's jaw dropped. "Wes… That's exactly what I was about to say. I meant every word." 

Wes stopped walking and looked at him, eyes glinting in the darkness. "For real?"

"Of course. I was so jealous of Hobbie. He… he called me out on it but I always thought… I thought you were just unreachable for me." 

"And I thought the same thing about you," Wes said with a chuckle. He started walking again. "I didn't want to kriff up what we had."

Wedge nodded. "If you want this, we have to… we can't let it mess us up." 

"I'm a little scared," Wes admitted. "I want this so much. But we're so good together as we are. We can't ruin that."

Wedge was silent as they walked, getting closer to the spaceport. "I think. If we want it, we should do it. We're a fight away from dying, almost always. I want… we deserve to have something."

"No argument here," Wes said. "You always say things so well."

Wedge felt his face heat. "I really want to kiss you but we need to move. When we jump?" 

"Kriff yeah," Wes replied. "How fast or slow do we take this? Because I really want to... well, do a lot more than kiss you. But I don't want to kriff anything up between us."

"It won't," Wedge told him. "We won't let it. I promise I won't let it ruin us." 

"I promise too," Wes said. "So let's go get on that shuttle. I think you said you wanted to... devour me?" His teeth gleamed in a wide grin.

"Every day," Wedge told him. He took Wes's hand and they walked together towards their shuttle. "Once we get clearance, we'll take off and jump. Then, we take our time." 

Wes squeezed his hand gently. "I love you. I just wanted to say that again."

"I love you too," Wedge told him. They entered the shuttle and Wedge started takeoff procedures. "Query for takeoff." Wes strapped in and they got clearance, then took off smoothly. 

Once they were into hyperspace, Wes unbuckled his safety straps. "You're sure about this?" he asked.

"Definitely. I've been thinking about this since Yavin," Wedge told him, having unbuckled as well. 

Wes dimpled and licked his lips. He was staring unashamedly at Wedge's mouth, his face already flushed. "Then let's not keep you waiting any longer," he said, and led the way into the back part of the shuttle. "How do you want me? I'm all yours."

"I want you in every way," Wedge told him. He kissed Wes deeply, starting to unfasten his dress shirt. 

Wes chuckled. "You're so sweet." He ruffled Wedge's hair with one hand and squeezed his ass with the other while they kissed. "Your fake beard, however, is not. You should get rid of that."

Wedge reluctantly pulled away and tugged the facial hair loose, then started taking his clothing off as well. He stripped down and stood before Wes. "Ready when you are." 

Wes looked him up and down, dark eyes shining with desire. "You're so beautiful," he said, removing his spavat. His shirt and vest already hung open, revealing his muscular chest and lean stomach. "But you realize we're going to have to put some of this back on. Unless we want to walk out of the shuttle stark naked so Tycho and Hobbie can laugh at us."

"It'd be worth it. But good point," Wedge told him. "Should I get dressed mostly before we?" 

Wes looked him over again, longing in his eyes. "How about afterward," he said. "I want to enjoy looking at you. You're so amazing." He unfastened his trousers and pushed them down around his thighs, freeing his thick hard cock.

Wedge stroked his own cock, looking at Wes's. "I'm… I'm spoiled for choice. What do you want to do first?" 

"I want your mouth," Wes told him, a fond smile on his lips, voice thick with lust, love shining from his deep brown eyes.

Wedge knelt down in front of him, glancing up then leaned forward, licking his cock. He gently palmed Wes's balls, starting to suck on his erection. 

Wes groaned and arched into the touches, nearly losing his balance. "I should maybe... wall," he gasped, obviously overcome by finally having his fantasies come true. "Or sit down. Which?"

"Either," Wedge told him, pulling back slightly and looking up at him. 

Wes flopped ungracefully into one of the seats, already panting. "Sithspit, you're so... oh, Wedge," he babbled. "The things you do to me. I want you every way, all the time."

Wedge smirked and crawled closer. "We have time," Wedge told him. 

Wes traced his fingers lightly over his own cock, teasing himself. "Please," he begged.

"Of course," Wedge said licking the tip and wrapping his lips around Wes's erection. He started moving up and down, stroking the bottom part of Wes's shaft while he sucked and licked the upper part. 

Wes moaned, twining his fingers through Wedge's fine hair. "So good," he babbled, "please don't sto--oh! Oh kriff please Wedge so clo...oh..." His hips jerked, fucking his cock mercilessly into the back of Wedge's throat once without warning. "Please, fuck, please, gonna -- oh fuck please gonna come..."

Wedge tapped him twice, letting him know he was ready, and sucked harder. He wanted to swallow. He needed to. Force, this was so much, so good. 

"--now!" Wes yelped, and thrust again into Wedge's mouth as he began to lose control.

Wedge swallowed greedily, sucking until Wes started to whine. He pulled off and wiped his mouth. "Was that good?"

" _Good_ ," Wes panted, laughing. "Just sucks my brain straight out my dick and has the nerve to ask if it's good. Come up here and kiss me, cocksucker."

"You love it," Wedge told him. He rose and kissed him deeply on the lips. 

Wes wrapped Wedge in one strong arm and pulled him into his lap, still kissing him. With his free hand, he reached between them and began to stroke Wedge's cock with a firm grip. "Good?"

Wedge nodded quickly. "Just like that," he told him. 

While they continued to kiss and explore each other's mouths, Wes jerked Wedge strong and sure, bringing him closer and closer to his peak.

Wedge pulled away from his mouth. "Wes, I'm going to come." 

"I'll wash," Wes told him, grinning. "Come for me, Wedge. Unless you'd rather come in my mouth?" He licked his lips temptingly.

Wedge shuddered hard and came all over Wes's hand and stomach, spattering onto his own thighs. He panted heavily and looked at Wes. "That was great. But don't say things like that when I'm about to come." 

"Lesson learned," Wes said, chuckling. "Next time, though?"

"Yes, definitely," Wedge told him, easing up and heading to the refresher. He washed off and came back with a moist cloth for Wes. 

Wes wiped himself off, still giggling a bit. "The look on your face though," he teased gently.

"I know. I look deranged when I come," Wedge groaned. 

Wes snorted. "Like I don't," he said. "But I meant when you realized you were coming right there. Just because I said it like that, no choice about it..." He grinned smugly.

"Mmm," Wedge said, taking the rag and tossing it towards the refresher. He straddled Wes's lap again. "If you like that, I'm sure we can do it again." 

"Need a breather first," Wes said, dimpling, his hands roving over Wedge's naked body. "Sure we can find some other way to, ah, occupy our time."

"We should probably actually get redressed. It's not going to be much longer," Wedge told him, kissing him again. 

"Aw," Wes said. "We can do more later though. Naked in a bed. Right?"

"Absolutely," Wedge assured him. "I finally have you. We're going to be doing everything." 

"Everything," Wes agreed happily. "Go get dressed then, if you insist on being all modest."

"I think everyone has seen enough of my naked ass to last them. Except you," Wedge said, pushing himself up and off Wes's lap. He started pulling on his clothing, fingercombing his hair to get it to behave. 

Wes lazily tucked his softening cock away and fastened up his clothes, looking very well fucked and extremely pleased with himself. "After debrief, I get to undress you, okay?" he said.

Wedge grinned. "Absolutely," he agreed. He went back to the pilot's seat, buckling his harness. Wes joined him, strapping in as well.

"So do we even want to try to pretend we didn't..." Wes asked, waggling his hand between them.

"No. Even if we tried, they'd probably see right through us." 

"True. Well, we'll survive."

Wedge smiled. "More than that." He knew this would be good. 

***

Hobbie stood with Tycho on the landing pad, waiting for Wedge and Wes to return. Tycho had gotten back long ago and they were just waiting on Wedge and Wes so they could debrief. The shuttle touched down and the ramp descended. Hobbie watched as Wedge walked down first, Wes close behind him. That was _not_ the body language they'd had on the way out.

Hobbie narrowed his eyes and then smirked at Tycho, holding out his hand. Tycho gave him a sour look but handed over his credits.

"Couldn't even pretend it's not obvious," Wes said in a satisfied tone, wrapping Wedge in a possessive hug and kissing him soundly. "You two set this up, didn't you?"

"Of course not," Hobbie told him. "If we'd been trying, we would have just locked you in a closet." 

"Did the droid get the intel sent through?" Wedge asked, focused as ever, even with Wes now blatantly groping his ass.

Hobbie frowned. "Maybe we should get inside." 

"Good idea," Wes said with a mischievous grin. "It's cold out here."

Hobbie rolled his eyes. These two were going to be insufferable. He turned, leading the way into the building. "Rena is waiting to debrief." 

By the time they got to the briefing room, Hobbie was almost starting to regret all the work he and Tycho had put in to get these idiots to make a move on each other. Wes sat down at the briefing table, pulled Wedge into his lap, and kissed him again.

Rena walked into the room. "I thought you weren't dating?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Things change," Wes announced firmly, his hands sliding up under Wedge's tunic. "Did we get the intel?"

"No." Hobbie said. "It was already gone by the time our droid searched the data banks. We're not completely empty-handed but it's definitely not what we were told was there." 

Wes frowned and patted his tunic pockets. "Something weird happened with Yulia when we were leaving," he said. He fished a small datacard out of one pocket and handed it to Rena. "I have literally no idea what is on there but it might be something interesting."

Rena furrowed her brows. "Let me test this for anything that might be destructive," she said, plugging it into a datapad she pulled out of her pocket. 

Hobbie frowned. "Who was Yulia?" he asked. That wasn't a name on their lists. 

Rena pulled the datacard free and put it into the holoreader on the table. Files started opening as the intel they had been searching for appeared. 

"Well, apparently an ally?" Wes said, sounding confused.

"I thought she might've been supporting our target but she said she was here to gain favor, much like our covers. There was something very Imperial about her though," Wedge said. 

"I did think she might have been an undercover Imp, but why would she help _us_ then?" Wes asked, even more confused.

Rena frowned. "I heard your cover accent before, but would you mind speaking with it again?”

"Uh. Sure," Wes said in his normal Taanabian accent. Then in his Core accent, "I do love my darling husband so?"

Rena glanced at Hobbie then back to Wes. "You got that cadence from listening to Hobbie, right?"

Wes shrugged. "I guess so. Not like I hear a lot of Coruscanti in this job."

Rena looked thoughtful. "How did she sound? Similar to me or Hobbie?"

"To the best I can tell, yeah. Not like I'm an expert, but she sounded more like you two than like... I don't know, Grand Moff Tarkin on the holonews?"

"The best I can guess is that she heard the Ralltiir in your accent and helped you because you were Ralltiiri. She may have thought you defected from Imperial Intel so you were a brother."

"I don't think my accent's that good," Wes said truthfully. 

Rena smiled. "I was trying to be polite."

"Well, she may have guessed I had a Ralltiiri handler. Which is sort of true," Wes said. "She wouldn't want to assassinate me for defecting, though?" he asked.

"Yes and no," Rena explained. "Ralltiiri agents are very loyal to other Ralltiiri. Even on separate sides. We... We only had each other during our training."

"So she decided, since I had a Ralltiiri handler, that she wanted to get the data to them by giving it to me," Wes said. "If you think it's a valid hypothesis, it makes as much sense as anything else."

"Possibly. We're going to be very careful with this intel. Hopefully, if it is something helpful... well, I just hope she makes good choices about where her loyalties lie," Rena told them.

"She seemed pretty smart," Wes said. "Are we doing a full debriefing or is that later?"

"I need to start going through all our data and discover exactly what our mystery benefactress wanted to tell us. You did well," Rena told them. She rose and left the room. 

"So, what did it? Did you finally have enough of pining?" Hobbie asked. 

Wes snorted. "We finally figured out we were both interested in each other. Don't pretend you weren't hoping we would."

"I definitely was," Hobbie said. "I mean, I bet that you'd have sex on the way home." Tycho nodded in agreement.

"We noticed," Wedge mock-growled. "You didn't have to rub it in our faces."

"Rub it in your faces? Who has suffered more than I? I have to listen to Wes going on odes to your ass, I have to listen to him whine about you being too perfect for him, and I have to deal with you sending long looks at Wes, plus all that time you were being a little shit to me because of your misplaced jealousy. You can deal," Hobbie told him. 

Wedge sighed, but did not debate the point.

Wes turned to Tycho. "Does Wedge get as annoyingly rhapsodic about me as I apparently do about him?"

"Mostly longing looks, sighs, and telling himself that you wouldn't like him like that," Tycho said. "Let me just say now. I told you so." 

"You did indeed," Wedge admitted. "Let the record show that Wedge Antilles was wrong."

Wes kissed him again. "Is that everything we need from this meeting, or does the record have to show that Wes Janson was wrong too? Because I wasn't. I was extremely correct that Wedge is still way too perfect for me."

"You're still wrong," Hobbie told him. "You two deserve each other. But we're done here." 

"Good," Wes said. He stood up, scooping Wedge bodily into his arms. "Your place or mine?" he asked, kissing him again.

"Mine. We have a lot to make up for," Wedge told him.

"So much lost time," Wes agreed, kissing him more deeply. "I gotta stop kissing you till we get there or I'll walk into a doorway and give us both a concussion. Not fun."

"I regret everything," Hobbie said. 

Wedge grinned and made a rude gesture towards Hobbie. "Let's get out of here."


End file.
